


Point of No Return

by groaninlynch (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:40:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/groaninlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: how Castiel got that symbol cut into his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point of No Return

**Author's Note:**

> follows the script of the scene in [5x18] 'Point of No Return' up to the point it pans away from Cas pulling out the knife.

The abandoned warehouse looms over the three of them as they stop before the door.

“Tell me again why you don’t just grab Adam and shazam the hell out of there,” Sam says to Castiel.

“Because,” the angel replies, looking at Sam imploringly, “there are at least five angels in there.”

Sam’s eyebrows dart up. He glances over to Dean.

“So?” says Dean. “You’re fast.”

“They’re faster,” Castiel states gruffly while undoing his tie and slipping it from under his shirt collar. Dean’s eyes follow the movement. He wonders vaguely when Castiel learned how to do that himself.

“I’ll clear them out,” Castiel continues, bunching up his tie before sticking it into his coat pocket, eyes flickering between the two brothers. “You grab the boy. This is our only chance.” He turns toward the door.

“Whoa whoa, wait, you’re gonna take on five angels?” Dean asks.

Castiel turns back around, meeting Dean’s disconcerted look. The angel narrows his eyes, squares his jaw when he says, “Yes.”

“Wh…” Dean huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Isn’t that suicide?”

“Maybe it is. But then I won’t have to watch you fail.”

Dean loses his smirk.

“Sorry, Dean,” Castiel says, “I don’t have the same faith in you that Sam does.”

A hard lump forms in Dean’s throat at that.

Then Castiel draws a box cutter from his trench coat pocket, extending the blade.

“What the hell are you gonna do with that?” asks Sam uneasily.

Castiel draws his mouth into a hard line and looks down. “I’m gonna cut a banishing sigil into my chest.” He starts to swiftly unbutton his shirt.

“Cas, you—” Sam starts, but he’s cut off by a heated glare.

“This is our  _only_  chance,” Castiel growls, shirt open now, angling the blade toward himself. “We will not be compromised by your dutiful feelings in finding a way that doesn’t require sacrifice. And in any case, the Lord knows how much I’ve given already.” He scowls pointedly at Dean, then presses the box cutter into his own skin. Castiel doesn’t even wince, slicing a thin line down under his collarbone.

Dean reaches out, stops Castiel’s hand. “Let me do it.”

Castiel’s face is venomous, impossible angry, but Dean does his best to ignore it. To ignore the pain of having all of that directed at him.

“It’ll go faster than having you try to twist to get it right,” Dean explains. He grasps the box cutter. Castiel doesn’t let go. “Don’t be so prideful.”

“I am  _not_ —-”

“Then let me fucking do it.”

“Dean,” Sam interjects, but then Castiel releases his hold on the thing with a bitter expression.

Dean steps closer to Castiel, positioning himself properly. “Sam, will you go recon the area?”

“But Cas…” He stops at Dean’s face. Understands. “Okay. I’ll be back.” And he jogs off around the corner of the building.

Castiel stares at Dean, eyes narrowed, as he puts a hand up to Dean’s temple, pressing two fingertips there softly. A symbol flashes into Dean’s mind.

Dean places the blade in the hollow Castiel’s chest, meeting the end of the line he’d started, dragging down onto his rib cage.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters as blood begins to trickle.

“I do not want your apology,” Castiel bites. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Dean finishes the outside circle of the symbol, although it’s less of a circle and more of a haphazard octagon. He doesn’t reply, just starts on the inside part.

And Castiel sighs, another humanly tic he’s picked up. Dean is close enough that the exhaled breath feathers along his cheek. His eyelids fall.

“Dean—-”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.”

Now it’s Castiel who stills Dean’s hand. Thin rivulets of blood slide down his chest. He tilts his head to meet Dean’s gaze, leads his eyes upward. Much the way Dean had once done to Castiel, when he was the one on the precipice of giving up.

“Then why.” Dean hates how pleading Castiel’s face is. Fucking hates that he’s caused this, this rift in Castiel’s seemingly infallible faith. “ _Why_.”

“I just have…” Dean’s brow furrows when Castiel’s hand roughly squeezes his own, more an action of suppressed violence than anything else. “I’m tired, Cas. I don’t wanna fight this anymore.”

Castiel drops his hand. “Don’t want to? Or  _can’t_?”

Dean sucks in a breath and doesn’t answer. He draws the little triangle above the circle into Castiel’s pale chest. “Give me your tie,” he says as he retracts the blood-slicked blade back into its plastic casing.

“Why.”

“Need to clean you up, else this’ll seep through your shirt.”

Castiel almost reluctantly retrieves the tie from his pocket. Then he hands it to Dean, doesn’t even ask he can’t clean his own self. Just does exactly as Deans asks of him.

“You should get Sam to wash this for you later,” Dean mumbles as he lightly dabs at the blood. He huffs a laugh. “Thinkin’ of it, you should probably wash all of your clothes.”

Castiel stares off to a point somewhere past Dean, doesn’t say anything.

The cuts weren’t too deep so the bleeding itself has subsided. Dean finishes wiping Castiel off. “Alright, you’re done.” He carefully folds up the tie, gives it back to Castiel, who quickly places it back in his pocket. Castiel begins to rebutton his shirt. “Where’d you learn to do that anyway?” Dean asks, gesturing at Castiel’s buttons.

Castiel looks at Dean’s own shirt pointedly with a quirk of his head.

“Monkey see, monkey do, huh.”

“I am not a monkey, Dean.”

Dean laughs and pats Castiel’s shoulder once. “I know, Cas.”

Sam comes trotting around the corner, but he’s still a short distance off. Dean gives Castiel a soft push before taking his hand away. “Just be careful, man.”

Castiel opens his mouth, eyebrows pulled together again, like he’s about to say something snarky in reply. But then it’s as if all of his anger for Dean leaves his body. “And you as well,” he replies lightly as Sam comes to a stop in front of them.

“Ready?” Sam asks.

Castiel nods.

“Alright.” Sam sucks in his bottom lip. “Good luck.”

The angel just nods once more and turns back toward the door. Without a second glance at them, he pulls it open, steps through, and closes it firmly behind him.


End file.
